Director Evelyn Kade did not believe in intimidation.
Intimidation made people defensive. Defensive people lied.
She believed in clarity.
Which was why she chose Sam.
Sam was, in her professional opinion, the loudest variable.
He noticed patterns but disguised it as humor. He deflected fear by naming it first. And most importantly—he wanted to be seen. It was easier to get details on teens, very easy even the most minute details.
Kade waited outside the Marrow Mini-Mart, pretending to examine a rack of chipped keychains.
When Sam burst through the doors with an energy drink and a bag of chips, she spoke without turning around.
"Blue raspberry is terrible for you."
Sam froze.
"…it's sugar water with dreams," he said cautiously. "Who are you."
She turned then, smiling pleasantly.
"Evelyn Kade," she said. "I work for a department that cleans up messes."
Sam blinked. "Cool. I once spilled soda in an elevator. We should talk."
Kade laughed lightly. "You're Sam."
He stiffened. "I don't give my name to strangers."
"You give it to your friends," she replied. "To your teachers. To your online accounts. I simply listened where others couldn't."
Sam's grip tightened on the chips.
"That's creepy," he said.
"Yes," Kade agreed. "But effective."
She gestured toward the picnic table outside. "Walk with me."
"No."
Kade nodded, unbothered. "Alex Mercer is trying to keep everyone safe. Jordan wants answers. Lena is learning that some losses are chosen. Riley feels the building like a limb."
Sam stared at her.
"And Maya," Kade continued gently, "is afraid it will leave her if she stops listening."
Sam swallowed.
"You don't get to talk about them," he said quietly.
Kade studied him. "There it is."
They walked.
---
They sat across from each other, the hum of traffic distant, the sky painfully normal.
Kade folded her hands. "You're involved with a structure near the service road."
Sam snorted. "Never heard of it."
"Good instinct," she said. "Wrong execution."
She leaned forward slightly. "That building is a prototype. A proof of concept that exceeded expectations."
Sam scoffed. "You mean the haunted government grief-box?"
Kade smiled. "I like you."
She continued, "It was designed to absorb psychological overflow. Trauma. Abandoned futures. Grief that would otherwise destabilize communities."
Sam's humor faltered. "So you built a feelings landfill."
"More like a recycling center," Kade said. "Waste becomes resource."
Sam stared at her. "You're the villain. Like, aggressively."
Kade laughed, delighted. "Oh, Sam. Villains believe they're right. I know I'm necessary."
She tapped the table.
"You've noticed it changing," she said. "Becoming protective. Selective."
Sam didn't answer.
"That's dangerous," Kade continued. "It means it's forming attachments without oversight."
"It cares about us," Sam said before he could stop himself.
Kade's eyes sharpened. "Exactly."
She slid a card across the table.
No logo. No seal. Just a phone number.
"We want to help you," she said. "All of you. But help requires cooperation."
Sam pushed the card back. "Hard pass."
Kade didn't move it.
"If you don't," she said calmly, "others will come. People who see the building as a malfunction to be corrected."
Sam swallowed. "You're threatening us."
"I'm informing you," Kade replied. "Threats involve uncertainty."
She stood. "Think about it. You have influence. The building listens to you."
Sam's voice shook. "You're wrong."
Kade paused. "Am I?"
She walked away.
---
That night, Sam didn't joke.
He lay on his bed staring at the ceiling while his phone buzzed with messages from the group.
Alex: You okay?
Lena: You went quiet.
Jordan: Please confirm you are not dead.
Sam typed slowly.
Sam: met someone.
Sam: bad vibes. government vibes.
Alex: Where are you?
Sam: home. safe. i think.
He hesitated, then added:
Sam: she said the building listens to us.
The reply came almost instantly.
Maya: It does.
Sam closed his eyes.
Across town, the building hummed softly—not anxious, not calm.
Waiting.
And Director Evelyn Kade sat in her hotel room, reviewing profiles, already adjusting her strategy.
If Sam wouldn't open the door—
She'd try someone quieter next.
Someone who listened better than they spoke.
---